


Wayland 2010

by wheel_pen



Series: Immortals [6]
Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:32:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cal and Gillian’s son Kieran, newly introduced to the Immortal life, meets his grandfather. Just a short scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wayland 2010

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The Immortals are powerful Earth beings who have children with mortals and are supposed to take care of them. The different clans are inspired by various movies and TV shows.  
> 2\. The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things.  
> 3\. I own nothing, and I appreciate the chance to play in these universes.

_New York City, 2010_

Kieran had never been in a situation like the one that found him at the docks in the early hours of the morning, when the grey mist lingered over the river and a damp breeze made him shiver a little. “Oh, you’re cold,” Gillian fussed, producing a jacket for him, quite possibly out of thin air. She sounded surprised by the fact that he was still troubled by little things like the environment or hunger, even though the other kids they lived with were also. He guessed it meant she saw him as fundamentally different from the others, which he supposed he was.

“I’m okay,” he insisted, like a good independent-minded teenager. He didn’t know how much the jacket would help anyway—some of his chill was due to nerves, not the temperature. He still felt inadequate trying to operate in this foreign world, without looking like a complete idiot.

The ship was a modest cargo carrier, dark and rusty, with letters in a foreign alphabet on its hull and a smoky exhaust pipe. Frankly it looked more like something that would smuggle machine guns to Eastern Europe than a vessel transporting an important family similar to his own across the ocean. But when the hatch opened and a man in plain clothes stepped out, even Kieran could feel the power radiating from him. He was tall, over six feet, with a bent nose and a bruiser’s build, late fiftyish, and definitely not someone you’d want to meet in a dark alley. Then suddenly he smiled and his whole face seemed to lighten, his blue eyes cheerful and even a little mischievous. He strode easily down the gangplank and embraced Cal heartily.

“How are you, nephew?” he asked, and his voice went with his pre-smile appearance, deep and rough with a Celtic lilt.

“Just fine, Uncle.” Cal stepped back and let Gillian take his place.

“Father,” she smiled warmly, hugging him tightly.

Kieran had learned not to put too much stock in the family titles people used around here. Cal had tried to explain to him that it was ‘different’ with them and hopelessly entangled family trees were of little practical or cultural significance. It still sounded like a lot of inbreeding to Kieran. Mostly he tried not to think about it.

Right about then the man turned his piercing blue eyes on the teenager, seeming to bore right through him. He felt fixed in place like a bug on a tray. “And this must be my grandson.”

Gillian nudged him forward. “This is Kieran!” she introduced with excitement. “He’s just joined us.”

“Um… hey,” Kieran tried, feeling horribly underwhelming, as he stuck out his hand.

The older man ignored that and embraced him instead. It was like being engulfed by a primal force of nature. “C’mere, lad! That’s it. Well, let me look at you.” He was held back at arm’s length and his grandfather—who didn’t really look old enough to be a grandfather—scrutinized him carefully. “You’ve got more of your mother about you,” he judged, seeming to approve.

Cal didn’t take offense. “I’ve brought a bus,” he pointed out, indicating the truncated vehicle nearby. Kieran usually associated them with the special ed kids’ ride to school, but oddly enough it seemed to be a favored vehicle among these people. “We should probably get home before it gets much lighter.”

His father-in-law, and uncle, and who knew _what_ else, took a deep breath of the somewhat ripe, dead fish-accented air. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to New York,” he mused, apparently in no hurry. “I look forward to exploring it.” His words seemed to hold more significance than Kieran caught.

“I’m sure you’ll find plenty to do, Lee,” Cal replied, “although we do try to live a _quiet_ life here.”

“Of course,” Lee agreed, a bit dismissively. Cal rolled his eyes when the older man turned back to the boat. “Come on, then.”

That was when the procession began. Mostly it was women—young women Kieran instinctively recognized as nymphs, burdened with suitcases and boxes; three older women, stunningly beautiful, one of whom must be his grandmother though that point was never made clear; and then _other_ young women and girls, some carrying small children, who seemed to Kieran to be fully and completely human—they had a variety of ethnicities, from Mediterranean to East Asian, and they gazed around with as much trepidation as Kieran felt.

Cal seemed to find this part of the parade unorthodox as well. “I thought your family was supposed to get _smaller_ when you retired,” he commented dryly.

Lee shrugged unapologetically. “You know how it is. Some of them don’t have good homes to return to. Everyone on the bus,” he encouraged the crowd.

But of course that was crazy—there was no way even a fraction of these people were going to fit on that little bus, let alone all the stuff the nymphs were unloading from the ship. Of course, there was no way it and they should have fit on the ship, either, unless they were crammed in like sardines. Kieran stood off to the side and watched with increasing amazement as person after person climbed easily into the bus and presumably found a seat—it reminded him of a clown car at the circus, only in reverse.

Slowly he inched around the far side of the bus, trying to see in the windows, but all he saw was a mass of people moving back and forth. Kieran walked around the front of the bus, trying to appear nonchalant, and sidled up to the door, attempting to look inside while dodging the steady line of people climbing up the stairs.

A young woman carrying a baby almost knocked into him and he pulled back quickly. “Sorry,” they both said at the same time. The baby hurled its toy to the ground and Kieran hurried to pick it up. “Here you go,” he offered the girl. She didn’t seem much older than _he_ was, really.

“Thanks,” she replied shyly.

Suddenly Kieran was aware of his grandfather standing on the other side of the line. “Up you go, Kimmy,” he encouraged the young woman, handing her up the stairs. With a nod to the next person in line Lee cut in front of her and put his arm heavily around Kieran’s shoulders, turning him away so adroitly that they were strolling several yards down the dock before the teenager even realized it.

“So what’s your specialty, lad?” Lee asked conversationally as the bustle of the procession faded behind them. “History? Philosophy? Poetry?”

“Um, I draw,” Kieran replied, feeling like he was admitting to some lesser hobby. “And, er, paint sometimes.”

“That is excellent,” Lee told him, with all sincerity. “Art has incredible power. I hope you’ll learn to use yours well.”

“Yes, sir,” Kieran answered, because what else could you say to that, really?

Lee stopped walking and they simply stood on the dock for a moment, looking out across the river at the lights from the cars and buildings. It was remarkably quiet for being so close to the city, which Kieran could never think of as quiet.

“All those people out there,” Lee mused thoughtfully. “Each consumed with their own lives, their own triumphs and sorrows. Yet when you step back you can see how small they are as individuals. It’s only when they work together towards something larger than themselves that they can truly create wonders.”

“It makes me sad,” Kieran said suddenly, not having meant to speak. Lee glanced over at him. “To see them looking so small, I guess,” he added lamely.

His grandfather gave him an inscrutable look, then turned and started to walk them back down the dock towards the bus. “It’s our job to take care of humans, Kieran,” he began casually. “To help them. We can’t do _everything_ for them, of course. Adversity is a necessary part of life.” The teenager nodded; his father had told him this many times. That was why the crime rate in New York City wasn’t zero, for example. “But we must find a cause to be passionate about, a way in which we can enrich their lives.”

He was staring intently at the dwindling procession they approached and Kieran felt bold enough to ask a question. “Who are those—girls? Sir. I mean—“ He was trying to ask in a respectful way, not like he was trying to score a date. “The women with the little kids.”

Lee smirked a little, not unkindly, then became serious again. “The world is full of injustice, lad. I hope you’ve not experienced much of it yourself, but I’m sure you know of it—the greedy and cruel prey upon the unwary.” Kieran shivered a little in the chill breeze; the growing light in the east was not warming him, and his grandfather’s words made him feel the cold deep in his bones.

“I try to help those who’ve been exploited,” Lee continued, “and punish those who trap them. If I can send them back home I do, but sometimes it’s better that they stay with me, for a while anyway.” Kieran nodded, still thinking about the ‘punish’ part. His mind conjured up all sorts of things he really wished it wouldn’t.

“But no need to be so solemn!” his grandfather insisted suddenly, clapping the boy on the back. He stumbled slightly with the force. “It’s a new day in a new city! And their stories have a happy ending,” he added, nodding at the last of the girls who was getting on the bus. “Come on. I can’t wait to see your drawings and paintings.”


End file.
